D. MacHale - The Reality Bug

He moved over to the big window next to the door and put his nose right against the glass to try and block as much of the outside light as possible. That helped a little, and he got a better view of the inside of the Sherwood house.

The place was empty. The only illumination inside came from windows farther back in the house, and they didn’t do much to light the place up. Very creepy. There was no furniture, or pictures, or any sign of life-“

Grrrrrr!

A hideous, black animal face leaped out of the shadows inside. It stared Mark square in the eyes. Drool dripped from its white fangs as it snarled viciously, trying to bite through the glass and get a chunk of Mark-meat.

Mark yelped in surprise and fell backward, landing on his butt. He stared up at the window to see two more animals join the first. They were awful-looking black creatures that could have been dogs, but no dog Mark had ever seen looked as evil as these beasts. They were focused on him, with only a thin pane of glass holding them back.

Mark pushed himself along the floor of the porch to get away. The beasts barked and snarled. Mark’s mind was reeling. What were dogs doing in there? Were they watchdogs? They definitely weren’t ordinary dogs. They were vicious, uncontrollable demons, and they were out for blood. They were…

It suddenly hit him. It was something from Bobby’s very first journal. What gave it away were the horrible, yellow eyes. There was no mistake.

“Quigs,” Mark whispered to himself.

(CONTINUED)

Smash!

The beasts threw themselves against the glass, desperate to attack Mark.

Mark knew the glass would be no match for these demons. He had to get out of there, fast. He jumped up and ran. He suddenly realized he had left his backpack on the porch, but the pounding on the window meant he wasn’t going back for it. No way. Mark sprinted across the overgrown yard, heading for the wall and safety.

He now saw that he was in deep trouble. When he first arrived, he had been so worried about getting caught trespassing that he hadn’t taken the time to figure out a way to climb back over the wall. Now he had another worry. He was worried about being trapped and eaten.

Crash!

The window shattered. The quigs were coming. Mark could hear them yelp and snarl as they tumbled over one another to get through the broken window.

He was still twenty yards from the nine-foot wall. He desperately scanned left and right, looking for a way to scale it. Without some kind of help, Mark didn’t think he could make it over. He dared not look back, because he knew what he’d see. Every second counted. If the quigs got to him before he got to the wall, there wouldn’t be enough of him left for anyone to find.

Mark saw nothing to help him climb.

The snarling quigs drew closer. In seconds they’d be on him. But Mark was focused. He had no plan, but had to think of one fast or in seconds he’d be dog food. He was almost at the wall, but didn’t slow down. He thought to himself, “I’m gonna run right up the side!”

He hit the wall running and dug his sneaker into the crumbling cement. His toe caught. He launched off it and grabbed the top of the wall. Normally Mark couldn’t even vault over the pommel horse in gym. But normally Mark wasn’t jet powered by surging adrenaline. He heaved himself up by his arms, threw both his legs to one side, and flung his body up and over.

No sooner did he clear the top than all three quigs hit the other side of the wall, yelping and crying for having missed their prey. Mark sailed down and hit the ground, rolling away from the wall, lucky not to have broken an ankle. He jumped up and did a quick check to make sure all body parts were intact. They were. He stood there for a second, trying to catch his breath. He listened as the quigs snarled from the other side in frustration.

Mark smiled. He had made it. It was probably the most exciting moment of his life. He even dared to think that this adventure rivaled some of the stories that Bobby had told. He had met a pack of hungry quigs and lived to tell the story.

But his joy didn’t last long. The glowing ring on his finger took it away. The truth was, the adventure wasn’t over. Whatever was in that house, whatever was making his ring glow, he was going to have to come back and find it. Running away wasn’t going to cut it. He was going to have to get past those quigs. But next time, he was bringing Courtney.

Courtney knew this was her golden opportunity.

There was going to be a practice scrimmage between the varsity and the JV soccer teams. She had been practicing hard with the JV, swallowing her pride and improving her skills, waiting for the chance to prove herself worthy of being back on the varsity. This was her chance. She was going toe-to-toe with the very girls who had tarnished the golden reputation of the unbeatable Courtney Chetwynde. Revenge was not too strong a word to describe what was on Courtney’s mind when she stepped onto that field. Her game face was on; her emotions were in check; she was ready.

So was the varsity. It seemed as if its entire game plan was about stopping Courtney. She was double-teamed all day and pretty much taken out of the action. Making things worse, with only a few minutes left to play, the JV team was losing 5–3. But truth be told, Courtney didn’t care if they won or lost. All she wanted was to prove that she could compete. That wasn’t happening.

Finally, with only seconds on the clock, she got her chance. She was playing forward and the ball was passed to her. She was being double-teamed and one of the defenders fell. Courtney used the player’s body as interference and got past the second defender. It was now one-on-one between Courtney and the goalie. This was her moment… her chance to put a solid exclamation point on the game. She wanted this goal bad. She needed this goal. She dribbled the ball in quickly, deeked a kick that made the goalie move right, then drew back to fire the ball into the opposite corner of the net. It was perfect.

Almost.

Just as she was about to deliver the killer kick, the defender sprinted up from behind and took her out. It was a totally illegal move. The defender slid into Courtney’s feet like a baseball runner sliding into second base. Instead of putting her foot into the ball, Courtney landed on her back. Hard. Whistles blew, a penalty was coming, but it didn’t matter to Courtney. Her moment was lost.

She jumped to her feet, screaming, “What was that?”

Before the defender knew what was happening, Courtney gave her a wicked shove that sent her sprawling back onto the grass. She put her knee on the player’s back so she couldn’t get up. All her frustration finally came pouring out.

“I beat you and you know it!” she shouted.

A second later the other players descended and pulled the two girls apart. It was tough pulling Courtney away because she was so enraged. The defender got back to her feet and was ready to take Courtney on.

“Come on!” she taunted Courtney.

Courtney tried to lunge at the girl, but the other players held her back. Finally Coach Horkey ran in between the two girls and restored order.

“Enough!” she shouted. “Laura,” she said to the defender. “Inside. All of you, locker room.”

The fight was over. So was the scrimmage. The girls walked off, grumbling.

“Courtney,” Coach Horkey said firmly. “Stay here.”

As Laura, the defender, walked off, she looked over her shoulder and snarled, “Loser.”

“Enough!” shouted Coach Horkey. Laura put her head down and kept walking. Courtney didn’t budge. She was breathing hard, still fired up from the fight.

“She deserved it, Coach,” Courtney pointed out. “It was a total cheap shot.”

“It wasn’t” Horkey countered. “She had a point to give and made the aggressive play.”